


Of Belt Loops and Cheeseburgers

by Piarelei



Series: Tumblr Prompts [1]
Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: M/M, Tumblr Prompt, of some sort, summer 1985
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-25
Updated: 2020-04-25
Packaged: 2021-03-01 22:20:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,168
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23840668
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Piarelei/pseuds/Piarelei
Summary: “You’re a madman, Harrington.” And there is a leer on his face; Steve wants to kiss it. He takes the offered weed instead, smiles around the smoke, slumps further into his seat.
Relationships: Billy Hargrove/Steve Harrington
Series: Tumblr Prompts [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1717894
Kudos: 58





	Of Belt Loops and Cheeseburgers

**Author's Note:**

> Written for a Tumblr prompt.

“How did you figure?”

Steve blinks blearily to Billy, slumped across the back seats; he hits his head on the window in the process. 

“What?”

Billy turns his joint between two fingers and settles an heavy gaze on him. There is sweat on his brow; Steve wants to lick it. 

“That I was a fag.”

The sound of it rattle his skin; Steve didn’t, not really, it was just a hunch; he simply surged and grabbed and kissed and hoped not to get shaken out of his bones. 

He shrugs. Billy scoffs and holds out his cigarette. 

“You’re a madman, Harrington.” And there is a leer on his face; Steve wants to kiss it. He takes the offered weed instead, smiles around the smoke, slumps further into his seat.

“Whatever.” 

He probably is. Mad, that is. No sane people would take one look at the asshole who beat their face in and drag him by the belt loops in their car. 

Steve closes his eyes to the images of Billy’s body on his skin, the burning ache of his teeth on his collarbones, the sticky heat of sex fogging up the windows. He dozes, careful hands retrieving the burning joint between his fingers before he sets fire to himself, lulled by the calm breaths on the other side of the car. 

He’s startled awake by an abrupt knock; the world is a lot colder now.

Billy has a smirk full of insolence when he rolls the window down.

“What’s up, Chief?”

Steve feels his stomach rolls with dread, like a tidal wave crashing through his tidy life; it feels big and awful and Steve wants to shy away from it all. Instead, he leans forward to meet Hopper’s eyes.

“Hi Hop,” he says with a large helping of fake cheer. 

He tries to not let the baffled expression of Jim’s face rattle him. 

“You okay, kid?”

Steve shrugs, tries not to let the nearness of Billy’s body distract him; it’s a wall of heat against his arm. 

“Sure, yeah.”

Hopper seems to consider this for a second, looking at them sternly for a few seconds too long. He sighs. 

“Go home, both of you. You have school tomorrow and it’s already late.”

Billy laughs and it’s not nice; it’s a brutal cackle, like the sea crashing on sharp rocks, thumping against a cliff. He leans forward, pushing the door open without care of who stands in his way; Steve is helpless and just watch him; Hop takes a step back and looks at him leaving.

“See you, pretty boy!” he screams when he’s in his car, tearing away from the curb in a cloud of gravel and fumes. 

Jim exhales heavily. 

“I can’t say I expected that.”

He turns back to Hop; he looks at Steve with wise eyes, full of truth and knowledge. It makes something uncomfortable lodge itself in his throat. 

Steve coughs in his fist. 

“Yeah, well... Huh. I’m going home now, okay?”

Hop doesn’t say anything for a bit; just watch him with the beginning of a frown. Then, sighs.

“Sure, you do that.”

* * *

Steve should have known that this would happened; he’s always been a dumbass; everyone always told him so. He should have know that sneaking Billy in the back of the shop nearly every night just before closing would be caught on at some point. He should have known that an unlocked door wasn’t enough protection against the rage of the world. 

He should have known that Nancy would stick her self-righteous nose in his business once again, when he finally felt free from her clutches, when he had finally stopped begging the skies for her attentions. 

The back room of Scoops Ahoy is ringing with silence; Steve has his hands on Billy’s waist, wrapped over warm skin and it takes him a bit too long to withdraw, to shrugs the ice circling his limbs and move.

Billy has a weird suppleness to his spine, it makes him seem relaxed, cat-like; Steve spends enough time with him to know that he’s preparing to strike if needed.

Nancy and Jonathan gape at them; Steve lifts a hand to his hair and finds it disheveled; he tries to straighten it, tucks it behind his ears. It doesn’t seem absurd when he does it; it does when Nancy goggles at him. 

“What are you doing?” she asks and she’s talking to him. 

Billy is the one to answer. 

“What does it look like?” and he bares his teeth; Steve knows how frightening it can be. 

Nancy flinches like she’s been slapped; she hides it with a haughty lift of her head, the stubborn jut of her jaw. Jonathan presses a hand on her shoulder, support and back-up in his intentions; Steve tracks the movement like a hawk.

“I’m not talking to you.”

Billy sneers, makes a move toward her; or the exit, Steve doesn’t know. He grabs him by the elbow; doesn’t even think about it before it’s done and they’re all staring at the junction of their skin, sinuous fingers pale against his tan. 

“You shouldn’t be here,” Steve says when he finds his voice and he says it in the general direction of the intruders. Billy tenses under his hand; it feels like loyalty. 

“What are you doing, Steve? You...” She falters and he turns to her. There are unshed tears swimming in her eyes; they seem to stick in Steve’s throat. “It’s not you. You’re not... You’re not. Not with _Billy Hargrove._ ”

Steve gasps a breath in; he can barely feel the hiccup of dizzy sadness under the roaring rage climbing his ribs. He’s shaking all over. 

“Fuck you,” he spits, a finger jammed in her face. “Fuck off!”

Nancy gapes at him. Jonathan makes a move forward and Billy is all other his personal space in a beat, without letting him say one word. 

“Harrington asked you to leave, I think.” And he’s an unyielding statue of brute strength, standing between Steve and a broken nose. 

The stand-off last all of thirty seconds before Nancy turns heels, eyes moist and nose held high. Jonathan follows shortly after. 

“Well, shit,” Steve says and he deflates, slumps against the chill of the wall. 

“Yeah,” nods Billy. 

They share silence for a few minutes before Steve straightens up with a sigh and begins to tidy everything, closes the store with slow movement. Billy hoists himself on a worktop; Steve doesn’t even have the strength to tell him off. 

When they’re on the parking lot, two lonely figures standing in the yellow light of the mall, Steve asks, “Why didn’t you hit them?”

Billy shrugs. 

“I’ve been in enough fights to know that it wasn’t mine. Or something.” He lights a cigarette, routine like a protective shield. “Wanna get a burger?”

Steve crams his hands in his pocket, hides a smile with the inclinaison of his head. 

“Sure,” he says and they get into their cars, Billy’s taillights like a beacon in the night. 

**Author's Note:**

> You can find the original post on Tumblr [Tumblr](https://zoupia.tumblr.com/). 
> 
> The prompt, by anonymous: Harringrove cuddling in bed and being walked in on by Hopper and Joyce or Nancy and Jonathan.
> 
> If you ever want me to write something, do not hesitate to leave me [prompts](https://zoupia.tumblr.com/ask), I take them gladly.


End file.
